Beyond the Wasteland
by Snake Salvatori
Summary: His name is Max, and all he knows is to kill and survive. But upon hearing rumors of a place of solitude, Max ventures beyond the Wasteland to find it in hopes of forgetting his tragic past. It won't be easy though for who knows what lies beyond the Wasteland for him?


_My name is Max. I am a savage driven by a single instinct in this world, survive. Once I was a cop, a shining symbol of justice fighting for a noble cause. That all changed when my family died right in front of my eyes. I killed the people responsible, following a year after, the world changed. Civilization crumbled, man killed for guzoline, life became a savage road. Here I am now; left to wander endlessly on this godforsaken Wasteland until the day I die. Or so it seems, I've been hearing rumors of a place that there's a place of solitude beyond the Wasteland where one can find eternal peace. It seems unlikely, but what have I got to lose?_

He stood at the top of the hill, staring at the setting sun and reliving old memories of those he could not save. They still haunted him to this day even after the ordeal on with the War Boys. He heard something coming from the far distance south of him. Engines exhaling fumes from their cylinders along with psychopaths operating their vehicles. Were they War Boys? No, not after Furiosa became their new ruler. So that must mean they're just scavengers who want whatever he possesses, and right now he had a motorcycle, a functioning hand gun, a ka-bar knife and 2 cans of the guzzoline. Max hopped on the bike started the engine and accelerated forward to where the sun set a quarter way.

The scavengers were gaining on him. He had to think fast, reaching for his hand gun, he cocked the weapon with his teeth and fired blindly behind in hopes of driving them off his tail. This worked only for a little bit after three scavengers were shot off their motorcycles. The others began making evasive maneuvers to avoid Max's bullets until his weapon eventually ran out of bullets. Now projectiles were headed his way, flaming spears and arrows passed by him as he evaded their method of attacks. The sun was half way set now and was close to where he needed to be.

An arrow pierced his rear tire; he knew it as well that in three seconds things would get ugly soon. But before he could think up of a plan he began flying in the air like a bird soaring through the skies only to land on his back moments after the bike exploded. The vehicles circled around him and then they stopped. The scavengers stepped out of their vehicles with their bladed weapons.

"So how 'bout we skin the bastard," asked Wedge.

"Take whatever he has, and then we'll skin him," replied Horse Teeth.

As Wedge was about to kick the supposed corpse he was met with a knife to the foot and a fist up his chin. He was back on his feet growled at his pursuers. Horse Teeth ordered the rest of his scavengers to attack. Max stabbed the first one in the throat and hurled him towards his mates causing temporary distraction. He felt the presence of someone trying to get him from behind, he turned around quickly and kicked Horse Teeth in the crotch punched him in the nose making him meet the sandy ground and taking him out of the fight. He went back to deal with the rest of them, brutally cutting their throats like pigs in a slaughterhouse. Horse Teeth regained his strength and charged at Max in hopes of taking him down. This failed however, Max struck his mouth with his knee, knocking out his teeth. He then began stabbing him repeatedly like he was the man who killed his family (even though he wasn't the man and he'd killed him a long time ago). He made one final cut, his jugular; and the blood flowed into the sand and dried up transitioning from thick red to plain black. Max touched the remaining blood that was still red with his left hand, observed it and then rubbed it all over his face. The voices were talking to him again, and they kept asking why they could not be saved. Max knelt by the dead bodies surrounded by all the blood caused by him and looked around. He didn't just see the bodies of the scavengers anymore; he saw the ones who kept haunting his mind. He looked to the setting sun, and as it slowly disappeared and night came the poor man let out a blood curdling scream that lasted the entire night.


End file.
